


Heartsore

by Bustle



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21818077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bustle/pseuds/Bustle
Summary: Chrom and Robin started fooling around during the war campaign against Plegia. Both caught feelings, but they are on disastrously different pages about the future of their relationship.Set after the first Plegian war, slight canon divergence because Chrom has not proposed...yet.
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta [Scytale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scytale).

The dusty old library in Ylisstol’s castle is quiet as usual. A few clerks scurry around, tending to the stacks. Robin sits in a secluded corner and ignores the dense text open in front of her, unable to focus as her mind churns.

It’s been two weeks since she talked to Chrom beyond exchanging pleasantries in passing, and quite a bit longer since they could have anything resembling their easy camaraderie as they traveled with his Shepherds. That closeness is so distant and foreign, now.

* * *

_“Chrom!” Robin giggles as he nuzzles her neck, his hair ticklish on her skin. She tries to stifle her voice before they start attracting attention from others in the camp._

_Chrom leans back and looks at her with a smile._

_“What’s this?” he asks, voice rich with amusement. “Normally, you’re the one reminding me to be quiet. The shoe’s on the other foot, hm?”_

_Robin shushes him and pulls him back in close. Chrom complies happily and soon they’re loosening her belts together. His hand slips down into her pants, and Robin has to sink her teeth into his bare shoulder to muffle her desperate noises._

* * *

It is beyond selfish of her to sit around missing their trysts while Chrom is busy grappling with sorrow and politics and the throne he never wanted, but she can’t help herself. She misses his hands, his eagerness to learn what makes her twitch, the way he always looked at her like it was the first time.

She’d like to say she’s not a fool, because she had always known there was an expiration date on messing around with the Prince of Ylisse, but lying to herself seems pretty pointless. Robin had known from the start that it was a bad idea, that she would attach too much meaning to it and then have to hurt her own feelings when it was time to peel herself away. She’d already been nursing a crush on Chrom for his kindness and handsomeness and honest nature well before they fell into bed together. She’d known that she was only giving herself enough rope to hang, and jumped in feet first anyway. Like a fool.

The difference in status was too great. Robin had never reached the point of self-delusion where she thought anything serious was possible, but it hadn’t stopped her from _wanting._

Now they didn’t even get to talk to each other, not in any meaningful way. The new king’s duties have understandably consumed his schedule, and Robin has no worthy claim to his time. Fleeting glances and a few short lunch meetings have replaced the lengthy conversations about everything and nothing that they used to hold in each other’s tents.

How is he holding up under the weight of his grief for his sister and all his new responsibilities? It kills Robin that she can’t do more for him.

Robin hopes Chrom will at least be able to marry someone nice, someone who will treasure his big heart and give it the care she can’t. Her own heart aches. Dully, she wonders if she should write to Flavia about taking up a position as a tactician in Regna Ferox—close and in friendly enough command to still be of use if Chrom needed to call upon her strategic talents, but far enough to not encroach on his new spouse’s territory and create uncomfortable situations with her inconvenient feelings.

Robin tries to refocus on her reading. Her knack for tactical thinking will be much less useful to Chrom in times of peace, but it’s the only way she can remain even slightly helpful. Her body, her feelings, her love—their time has run out. Her mind is all that is left to secure any kind of a place at his side. Paltry offering or not, she can’t afford to let rust set in. 

Robin exhales loudly, pushes her turmoil deep down, and concentrates on her reading.

* * *

Chrom slumps in an armchair by the fireplace in his rooms, drained. He drags his hands down his face.

He hasn’t been able to see Robin properly in _weeks._ It feels like he’s missing a limb. Every time he turns around to get her thoughts on something, he’s struck anew by her absence. He’d gotten used to having her at his side during the war, a pillar of strength to lean on when he feared he would falter, and the loss of her presence made him so unbalanced. But he couldn’t justify demanding she attend endless boring council meetings to advise him on matters she had no experience with.

He misses her clever insights and blunt commentary. He misses being able to talk with her about fears he can’t bring himself to confide in anyone else. 

He misses her mouth sliding over his, her fingers tangled in his hair and her weight in his lap.

Their physical connection was a balm and a delight, one of the only lights in an otherwise dark time, but carrying on as they had would bear a different weight at court. Chrom wants to get this right. Robin deserves better than sneaking around, or being strung along without a promise of more. Robin deserves everything. These long weeks have driven home how necessary it is to finally find some courage and lay his feelings bare, even if they would have to make healing Ylisse their first priority and wait.

Chrom fidgets, twisting the ring with his family’s crest around in his hands. Tonight. No more stalling. He _will_ ask her tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proposal time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hurt my own feelings with this one :') Thanks again to my beta Scytale.

Chrom is not able to go talk to Robin until well after dinner, since he spends the day tied up in his duties as usual. She’s been housed in the guest wing since their return to the palace, and the hall is dark and silent except for a few guards by the time he arrives. 

Screwing up his courage, Chrom knocks at Robin’s door. His nerves are jangly and his heart lodges in his throat while he waits for an eternity for a response.

“Chrom?” Robin pokes her head out, blinking at him in confusion. “Why are you here so late?” 

Chrom’s mouth runs dry. Robin is already dressed for bed in a simple shift, her hair loose, and the sheer intimacy of it is knocking all his thoughts askew.

“I—ah—well. I wanted to...Erm. Can I come in and talk?” 

“Sure,” she says, holding the door open wide. She closes it gently behind Chrom once he skitters inside, then pulls her desk chair out and gestures for him to sit. Robin seats herself on her bed, eyeing him with obvious curiosity.

Chrom lets out a shaky breath and tries to figure out where to start.

“I’ve really missed you, you know,” he says.

“I’m...sorry? I didn’t want to impose.”

“No!” Chrom practically yelps. Gods. He’s already making a mess of this, and he’s barely started. “I just meant—it’s not your fault! I’m going to make more time to see you, because—because you’re important to me. _I’m_ sorry.” Chrom rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. 

“I missed you too, you big lug.” Robin smiles, the warmth in it heartening him.

“I—” he shoots to his feet, too jittery to stay seated. He kneels before her instead, peering hopefully up at her face as he clasps her hands in his. Judging by how warm his cheeks feel, his face must already be embarrassingly pink.

Robin’s eyes go wide as saucers, but she waits for him to speak first.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and I know that I’m coming on strong, and I probably should have thought of a more romantic way to do this but I’m not very, uh, good at that, and I can’t—I can’t wait anymore! I can’t stand it. I love you, and I never want to be parted from you—if you’ll have me. Please, Robin, marry me?” Chrom squeezes her hands, rubbing his thumb in a circle on her palm.

His proposal startles a humorless laugh out of Robin, like she’s just heard something absurd but not particularly funny, and it’s a spear to his gut. They spend a horrible moment suspended in silence. Robin looks like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, and a frown creases her brow.

“Be serious, Chrom,” she says.

A wave of hurt crashes over him. He _is_ serious! He’s as deadly serious about marrying Robin as he’s ever been about anything in his life. He flounders, fumbling for words to convey the sincerity of his ardor. 

Robin seems to read his thoughts anyway. Normally she’d tease him for being such an open book. Instead her frown deepens and she breaks eye contact, casting her gaze to the side. She pulls her hands back. It makes his own hands feel cold, and empty.

“We can’t...that’s not an option.” Her voice is carrying a slight tremor, but her face has gone carefully blank. “I didn’t realize you were thinking along those lines. Chrom, it’s—it’s impossible.”

Everything is tilting off-kilter. Chrom’s head spins. He can’t string enough thoughts together to figure out how he so critically misunderstood what they meant to each other, let alone form a response to her matter-of-fact rejection. 

He’d just _presumed_ that she felt the same as he did, that the love he developed for her went both ways. 

“Oh. I...I see. I’m sorry for—I’m sorry.” He tries to not let how crushed he is leak into his voice, but he doesn’t think he’s very successful.

“Chrom…” Robin looks pained, and that’s more unbearable than the rest. Chrom stands and backs away jerkily, reeling as he wonders how much he’s damaged their...whatever they had that he had assumed was love due to his clumsy arrogance.

Robin is trying to say something else, some kind of apology of her own, but he can’t hear too well over the hot rush of shame and the buzz that’s filling his ears. Tears are pricking at his eyes, to his horror, and he can’t stay another second. Just about the only way he could make this worse would be to burden her further with guilt over his one-sided, blundering affections.

Devastated, Chrom mumbles something unintelligible and flees the scene before he can make an even bigger ass of himself. He’d been so sure that she too...but it didn’t matter. Clearly, he had deceived himself.

The ring sits heavy in Chrom’s pocket as he goes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom and Robin mope separately in the fallout. Tea with Lissa pushes Robin into a decision.

Sleep is impossible after Chrom leaves her room.

Robin is in misery. It had been one thing when she had thought she was the only one who stood to be hurt by their ill-advised fling. Upsetting, but acceptable. Chrom wasn’t supposed to be hurt! She feels acutely monstrous for stringing him along without even realizing what she was doing. 

All the same, she did the right thing by turning him down. Chrom has a responsibility to his people to choose wisely, and Robin is the worst choice possible. Her common status, dubious heritage, and general unsuitability would ensure that she was unpopular with the nobility. She certainly can’t think of anything of particular value that marrying her would bring to the table. 

No, Chrom needs to select a partner who can lend stability to his rule, not drag him down.

Robin regrets the pain she inflicted immensely. Still, she knows better than anyone that Chrom is easy to love; since he is empathetic and earnest to a fault, he can easily find love with someone more appropriate if he gives it a sincere try. In the long run, he will probably be grateful for her foresight.

Robin stays cooped up in her room the next day, drafting her letter to Flavia and throwing out the first illegible attempts. All the tears keep making the ink run.

* * *

Falchion is light in Chrom’s hands as he goes through his practice swings. Ylisse may no longer be at war, but it’s still important to keep up his conditioning through training.

While training can’t take his mind off his heartbreak, it’s at least more satisfying than sitting in his stuffy office with nothing but a stack of paperwork to distract him.

Chrom switches to the training dummies, resisting the temptation to strike with all his strength. Control is important. But maybe if he beats enough straw stuffing out of the dummy, he can jar the memory of his disastrous proposal right out of his own head.

No such luck. Even when he finally swings too hard and splinters the post of the dummy, he just keeps replaying Robin’s words over and over while her face flashes in his mind. 

Stupid. He’s so _stupid._

* * *

Festooned with lacy curtains and cheerful flower arrangements, Lissa’s rooms are as bright and sunny as the girl herself. She invited Robin up for tea, just the two of them, and so here they are. The open window catches the gentle summer breeze. Robin picks at the assortment of sandwiches and sweets as her tea turns lukewarm. 

Lissa probably wouldn’t want her here if she knew how Robin had used her brother and trampled his feelings, unintentional as it had been.

“Thanks for coming, Robin!” she says. “I know we haven’t been able to talk as much since…” she trails off. Robin politely pretends she has no idea how the sentence was going to end. “Well, anyway, thanks.”

Robin smiles. “Of course! I love spending time with you—without frogs, though.” 

“Aww, but the frogs liked _you_ so much!” Lissa giggles, unrepentant. 

Robin glares, but there’s no real heat in it, and soon they’re chattering away over their tea cakes about training in wind magic, court gossip from Maribelle, and what other Shepherds are doing now that the war is over. Lissa’s company always has a way of putting her at ease. 

After a while, Lissa goes uncharacteristically quiet; when she speaks, she chooses her words with great care.

“Do you know if something...happened to Chrom? He’s been acting weird the past few days.” She pauses. “Weirder than usual.”

A jolt goes through Robin, and she cringes at the uncomfortable notion of having to explain to Lissa that Chrom’s ‘weirdness’ is her fault. She’s not keen on the idea of telling Lissa that Chrom tried to propose, if he hasn’t chosen to tell her himself. Robin tries hard to maintain a neutral tone as she asks, “Oh? In what way?”

Lissa scowls.

“Ugh! He goes all moody and annoying but if you ask him what’s wrong, he won’t ever say anything. He’s a _terrible_ liar, too.” Lissa’s face falls. “Emm could always get him to talk when he got like that.”

With the mention of her name, Emmeryn’s shadow settles over their table. 

“I don’t know what to do without her, you know?” Lissa sniffles. “Emmeryn always knew what to do, and how to make things better, and I—ugh!” Her voice wobbles. “I guess I’m still too much of a baby to depend on, huh?” 

There’s a lot of things Robin wants to say—that no one wants or expects Lissa to become a replacement Emmeryn, that Chrom does need her own brand of support, that being ‘a baby’ is understandable when a beloved sibling dies and your remaining sibling is determined to grind himself into the ground, shouldering his burdens alone in a misguided attempt to project strength. But Robin’s too afraid of bungling the delivery to say any of that. Instead, she scoots her chair over and lays a hand on Lissa’s shoulder. Lissa gives a brittle, watery smile at the touch, and Robin tries anyway.

“Chrom’s so proud of you, you know. And I didn’t have time to know her very well, but I know Emmeryn was too. Anyone could tell, the way she’d talk about you. You don’t have to...do everything she did, the way she did it. I’m sure that he’ll come around and talk about things, if and when he’s ready.”

Lissa produces a handkerchief and daintily dabs her tears away, then blows her nose with a loud honk. She slides closer and leans her head on Robin’s shoulder. Robin leans too, resting her head on top of Lissa’s.

“Thanks, Robin,” she says. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask since I thought—Chrom trusts you a lot, and that maybe—maybe if he didn’t want to talk to me, or Frederick, he might say something to you? I’m sure you’re right, though. That dunderhead! He’ll spill eventually.” Lissa sighs gustily.

A lump forms in Robin’s throat. She doesn’t like lying—and she isn’t, not really, but she can’t shake the guilt from dancing around giving Lissa the full picture. It sits unpleasantly in her stomach. 

It’s difficult to see Lissa wilt under the weight of events that Robin had a hand in, things that she’s too cowardly to even explain outright. It strengthens Robin’s resolve to stop dithering and leave for good. She’s hurt this family enough already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got so long compared to the others that I decided to split it in two!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings talk and the promised happy ending!

That afternoon, Robin folds up her letter for Flavia and seals it, then marches herself down to Chrom’s office. Their personal entanglement aside, she’s still in his service and he deserves to hear her resignation in person.

The guards recognize her and stand aside, letting her knock on the heavy oak door herself.

“Enter,” says Chrom.

She pushes the door open and walks in as quietly as possible, as if she can get through this without attracting his attention. Chrom looks up from his desk and freezes at the sight of her.

“Listen, I—I have to tell you something,” she says.

Chrom looks like he’s trying to swallow rocks. “Okay,” he says.

“Well, first of all, I’m sorry. About...everything. I didn’t think—well. I didn’t think.”

“Robin—” Chrom tries to start, but Robin cuts him off and rushes on.

“Secondly, I’m leaving. Consider this my official resignation as the Shepherd’s tactician. I’m writing to Flavia to see if she has a spot for me, and I’ll always come if you have need of me but...I think this is for the best.” She lays the letter on his desk.

If Robin thought Chrom looked crestfallen the night he proposed, he looks positively wretched now. His mouth flaps as he struggles to say something.

“Thank you for everything, and…” Robin’s voice breaks. Damnit. 

“Gods, have I really been so overbeari—”

“No! No,” Robin says.

“Please don’t...don’t think that you have to go because I’m an idiot who overstepped. I’ll give you space, I swear it! We can be the purely professional general and tactician. Just please don’t…” Chrom doesn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence, plaintive and panicky. “Don’t uproot yourself over my mistake.”

“You didn’t—It’s not like that!”

Chrom’s brows draw together in confusion.

“Chrom, we have to be realistic. You have so much optimism, but I just can’t—people won’t—” Robin stops, her frustration tangling all of her words in knots.

A revelation looks like it is slowly dawning on Chrom’s face. He is clearly grappling with his words, like it’s imperative that he gets them right.

“Robin...Forgive me for pressing this on you again, and I swear on my life that I will never pressure you into anything you don’t want, but I am a weak man and I must know—did you turn me down because of what other people will think?”

Robin frowns.

“Yes? The difference in station alone, Chrom...Your choice will carry huge ramifications. You can’t afford to throw it away on me.”

Emotion flickers on his face, too quickly for her to read.

“So...what do _you_ want?”

Robin stiffens at that, hunching her shoulders. “I don’t think that matters.”

“What? Yes it does!” Chrom gapes at her. “It’s the only part that matters.”

She shakes her head. Chrom rounds his desk, agitated. 

“Robin, don’t think about the rest for a moment. Tell me—do you want to marry me?”

Robin doesn’t have it in her to lie to him. Not about this. “Of _course_ I want to marry you,” she half-sobs. 

Chrom’s smile is blinding. He whoops, picking her up by the waist and swinging her around.

“Chrom! We can’t ignore—Chrom, listen!” Robin says. He sets her on her feet again and positively beams down at her, one hand cupping her cheek and the other landing on her hip. Robin finds her own hands resting on his chest.

“Wanting doesn’t mean that we can, or that it’s advisable,” Robin protests. He’s getting ahead of himself, as usual. She can see that her reasonable concerns are sliding right off his idealism.

Chrom’s hand slides up from her hip to clutch hers against his chest, over his heart. His hands are large and comforting, warm and calloused on her skin. Robin doesn’t ever want his hands to leave her, and she thinks that’s very dangerous indeed.

“We definitely can, and as far as everyone else—well, they’re going to have their opinions, but we’ll tell them—”

“What, exactly? ‘The woman I am marrying is one I plucked out of a field, who is of uncertain origins and may have all sorts of ghosts in a closet she can’t remember? She has no connections, no social standing with the nobility, absolutely nothing to her name, and does not offer any meaningful political ties—oh! But don’t worry! She’s probably Plegian!’” 

As she lays out her inadequacies, her breathing turns heavy and jagged. Chrom’s steady heartbeat under her hand is more soothing than it has any right to be. He stays quiet a moment, swiping her frustrated tears away with his thumb. His hand slides under her chin to tilt her face up. He rests his forehead against hers.

When he steps back to speak, he waits until she holds eye contact with him.

“I'm never going to marry based off what will please a courtier who hates both of us. Why should I?” Chrom says. “Robin, those people don’t care about my best interests, and most of them don’t care about the good of the Halidom either, not really. I’m not chasing the approval of people who will only hold my choices in contempt.

“When I picture someone at my side, it's you,” Chrom pulls her hand up to his own cheek, turning his head to the side to kiss her knuckles gently. “This is a matter of the heart, and I’m going to follow mine.”

Her pulse is racing from his words. Chrom always finds a way to present the most rosy outcome as a convincing possibility. He blazes with such _certainty._

All the reasons she has for breaking her own heart are crumbling in the face of his love. Robin tries to say something but only manages a soft cry as she steps forward and presses her face against his neck, dampening his shirt collar. His arms wrap firm around her, and his chin rests on top of her head.

“You’re selling yourself short, you know. You’re a war hero, minded to see the big picture when I’m not, cool under pressure. You keep me balanced, and plenty will see that too,” he says. “I'm going to have to fight the nobility on the things that I believe are worth it, and I will. I'll fight for you, if you'll let me.”

“I thought you said you're bad at being romantic,” Robin says, the teasing intent of her words undercut by her wavery voice.

“I'm just being honest!” Chrom protests, chuckling. “I'm afraid I’ll never be very natural at it. I’ll be a hopeless husband, I’m sure.”

Robin squeezes her arms tight around his waist. “I don’t know, I’m pretty certain I’m going to be the luckiest woman alive,” she says.

Chrom practically jumps, leaning back to get a look at her face. “Do you mean it? Robin?”

Robin can’t hold back a smile, affection for him pouring out of her. “Yes. Yes, yes, Chrom, yes,” she says. “I’m sorry I put us through all this, but yes. I want to fight for you, too. I’ll marry you, Chrom.”

Chrom answers her with a quick kiss that melts into another, and another, each more passionate than the last. They stumble their way over to his desk. Chrom sits in his chair while Robin pushes his paperwork back to perch on the desk. He scoots the chair forward to slot himself between her thighs. It’s hard to say whom draws who back in, then.

They kiss for a while before Robin pulls back again.

“It is going to be a hard road, you know,” she says.

“Good thing I’m stubborn, then,” he retorts, burying his face in her hair. He nuzzles behind her ear, kisses a line down her jaw and back to her mouth again.

“Oh!” she says, breaking off a particularly nice kiss with just the right amount of tongue. “I’m going to have to learn a lot. Chrom! I don’t know nearly enough about court! Or anything about being Queen-Consort. Would that even be my title?! Gods, I don’t even know what my title would be or what it entails! I definitely don’t know enough about Ylisse’s infrastructure! Oh, I’m so _behind!”_

“You want a battle plan,” he says, and there’s such fondness in his gaze that it makes her heart throb.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be prepared,” Robin grumbles.

Chrom hums in agreement, then goes still. 

“The ring!” He looks embarrassed. Robin cocks her head at him in a silent question. “It’s, uh, I had a ring I wanted to give you, but then things...well, I don’t have it on me right now.”

Before Robin can even do more than feel a pang in her heart thinking about that first proposal, he’s standing and tugging at her hands until she slides off the desk. “Chrom! You still have work to finish here. The ring will keep for a few more hours, surely,” she says.

Chrom flushes to the roots of his hair. “I know that,” he laughs, “I just want you to have it now, okay? Besides...I want to get us somewhere more comfortable than my desk.”

Now it’s Robin’s turn to blush. “O-oh,” she says. “Let’s go, then.” They leave his office hand in hand, giddy with the novelty of being engaged.

For now she’s going to let herself enjoy being in love, even if she doesn’t have all the answers. They’ll figure it out, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my beta Scytale for the wonderful help whipping this into shape. I hope you all enjoyed reading <3 Happy new year!


End file.
